Even before we applied to AFM, my wife and I began to sense God’s spirit
calling us to serve Him, and we decided to lay our home on the altar.
Our little country homestead had been a wonderful place to live and
raise our girls, but as we prayed for God to show us His will, we wanted
to make ourselves completely available to answer His call. So, in
September 2008, we listed our home with a realtor.
In February 2009, while serving on a mission project in Guyana, we
learned of the need for a principal at the mission school in the local
village. We prayed that if God wanted us to answer this call, He would
cause someone to make an offer on our home before we returned. We
returned home with great anticipation and asked our realtor if anyone
had placed an offer, but no one had.
Disappointed but now sensing God’s call to foreign missions, we applied
to AFM. A few months later, our realtor informed us of two offers on our
home. After putting the matter before the Lord, we chose the stronger
offer and made a counter offer, praying that if God wanted us to work
with AFM, the buyers would counter at or above the amount we needed to
be debt-free. The next day, they made a counter offer for the exact
amount we needed.
We had our answer, but God had more to teach us. In the weeks that
followed our buyers could not obtain financing. Disappointed again, we
were faced with the choice of turning back or going forward. In November
2009, we chose to go forward and serve the Lord as AFM missionaries to
Papua New Guinea.
Praise the Lord! I am glad to announce that God has sold our home. He
led us to our own personal Red Sea and parted the waters. “Wait on the
Lord: be of good courage, and He shall strengthen thine heart: wait, I
say, on the Lord” (Ps. 27:14).
—John Lello
Monday, November 1, 2010
Friday, October 1, 2010
In Training: October 2010
One of the artifacts I use to illustrate the culture and beliefs of the
people of Papua New Guinea is a 56-inch-long arrow. Like most arrows
from the region, it is constructed from two pieces; a shaft made from a
dried reed and a long, pointed head carved from hardwood and inserted
into the shaft. Although it has no fletching, the arrow remains stable
in flight because the light shaft naturally follows the heavier head
allowing the skilled warrior or hunter to kill with accuracy and
precision.
This weapon is remarkable not just for its functionality but also its artistry. The head is intricately carved and painted with spiritually significant markings. With these markings, the craftsman calls upon nature spirits and ancestors to empower the arrow to kill.
The Bible also tells of spiritually significant marks, but how wonderfully different they are from the marks on my arrow. Instead of hatred, they communicate love. Instead of death, they bring life. They were carved into the hands, feet and side of our Savior, and for time and eternity their beauty will draw us to Him.
Dear friend, won’t you help us explain those marks to our Ama people? Won’t you help us introduce them to Jesus? Through your prayers and support, God has already provided more than three quarters of our launching funds. We thank you for your faithfulness. Our prayer now is for more Christian brothers and sisters who will begin a monthly financial commitment to our mission. If God is working on your heart, let Him guide you. I am confident that, as you listen to Him, God will provide the remaining funds needed for us to launch to Papua New Guinea as well as the ongoing support we need to carry His work forward among the Ama.
—John Lello
This weapon is remarkable not just for its functionality but also its artistry. The head is intricately carved and painted with spiritually significant markings. With these markings, the craftsman calls upon nature spirits and ancestors to empower the arrow to kill.
The Bible also tells of spiritually significant marks, but how wonderfully different they are from the marks on my arrow. Instead of hatred, they communicate love. Instead of death, they bring life. They were carved into the hands, feet and side of our Savior, and for time and eternity their beauty will draw us to Him.
Dear friend, won’t you help us explain those marks to our Ama people? Won’t you help us introduce them to Jesus? Through your prayers and support, God has already provided more than three quarters of our launching funds. We thank you for your faithfulness. Our prayer now is for more Christian brothers and sisters who will begin a monthly financial commitment to our mission. If God is working on your heart, let Him guide you. I am confident that, as you listen to Him, God will provide the remaining funds needed for us to launch to Papua New Guinea as well as the ongoing support we need to carry His work forward among the Ama.
—John Lello
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
In Training: September 2010
Recently, my family and I discovered a method of systematic giving that
we thoroughly enjoy and would like to recommend to you. We decided to
invest some family time each week in a small business venture and give
the profits to missions. Our girls, Abby and Alissa, love to help in the
kitchen, so “Mission Muffins” was a natural choice.
Our business plan is simple. Each Sunday, the girls and I drive into town and purchase ingredients for three or four batches of muffins while mom gets some well deserved down time. It’s a special time for my girls and me. Abby and Alissa enjoy pushing the grocery cart, selecting the ingredients, and paying the cashier, and I just enjoy being with them. On the way home, we often stop and play together at a park.
In the evening, the whole family mixes up the muffins, bakes them and wraps them in cellophane and ribbons. Monday morning, we take them to businesses in our little town where the girls offer them to the employees for a suggested donation of $0.75 to $1.50. Each muffin costs us approximately $0.50, so on average we expect to earn about $0.50 per muffin or about $18 to $24 a week, which adds up to a healthy monthly contribution of $72 to $96.
Naturally, we hope the Lord impresses your family to support our mission through a business venture of your own. Your plan will need to fit your family’s situation and interests, but we suggest you maintain three key elements. First, before you do anything, ask the Lord to guide your plans and bless your efforts. Second, make a plan that draws your family together around a common interest. Third, tell your clients the purpose of your business. This will provide opportunities for witnessing and allow you to introduce our mission to them.
Please pray for “Mission Muffins” and be sure to write and let us know of your own mission businesses so we can pray for you, too.
—John Lello
Our business plan is simple. Each Sunday, the girls and I drive into town and purchase ingredients for three or four batches of muffins while mom gets some well deserved down time. It’s a special time for my girls and me. Abby and Alissa enjoy pushing the grocery cart, selecting the ingredients, and paying the cashier, and I just enjoy being with them. On the way home, we often stop and play together at a park.
In the evening, the whole family mixes up the muffins, bakes them and wraps them in cellophane and ribbons. Monday morning, we take them to businesses in our little town where the girls offer them to the employees for a suggested donation of $0.75 to $1.50. Each muffin costs us approximately $0.50, so on average we expect to earn about $0.50 per muffin or about $18 to $24 a week, which adds up to a healthy monthly contribution of $72 to $96.
Naturally, we hope the Lord impresses your family to support our mission through a business venture of your own. Your plan will need to fit your family’s situation and interests, but we suggest you maintain three key elements. First, before you do anything, ask the Lord to guide your plans and bless your efforts. Second, make a plan that draws your family together around a common interest. Third, tell your clients the purpose of your business. This will provide opportunities for witnessing and allow you to introduce our mission to them.
Please pray for “Mission Muffins” and be sure to write and let us know of your own mission businesses so we can pray for you, too.
—John Lello
Sunday, August 1, 2010
In Training: August 2010
The child lying next to Kelli in the dugout canoe convulsed as another
seizure racked his small body. “Come on, let’s keep going!” she yelled
to the pilot of the canoe and the boy’s parents over the noise of the
outboard motor. In a desperate whisper, she added, “Oh God, let him
live!” If they could just get him to the airstrip, he had a chance.
Since arriving in the remote upper reaches of Papua New Guinea’s Sepik River valley, Kelli, a young AFM missionary nurse, had struggled with the overwhelming task of singlehandedly running the May River medical clinic. On call 24 hours a day, seven days a week, she had faced a barrage of wounds, problem pregnancies and unfamiliar tropical diseases. How much longer could she go on like this?
The seizure ended. The little boy’s breathing stopped, and his pulse weakened. Kelli struggled awkwardly to reposition herself in the canoe and began rescue breathing. Not knowing what Kelli was doing, the boy’s parents became agitated. She checked his pulse again. It was gone. She added chest compressions. Now distraught, the boy’s parents begged her to stop. “He is dead! Let’s go back. Let’s go back!” Unwilling to admit failure, Kelli continued CPR for a time before slumping over her lifeless little patient exhausted, drained and defeated.
Now in the full grip of grief and despair, the boy’s parents broke into an awful wailing chant, swinging their arms up and down and banging them against the sides of the dugout canoe in an effort to exorcise their pain and express to the spirit of their son how sorry they were.
There on that jungle river, Kelli felt an overwhelming weight of suffering and death pressing down and threatening to crush her, an experience shared by many missionaries before her and likely to be shared by those who walk in her footsteps.
But let us remember that Christ has already drained the cup of suffering and death and has risen victorious. We stand on the threshold of a time when we will say, “O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?” Please help us bring this message to the Ama people.
—John Lello
Since arriving in the remote upper reaches of Papua New Guinea’s Sepik River valley, Kelli, a young AFM missionary nurse, had struggled with the overwhelming task of singlehandedly running the May River medical clinic. On call 24 hours a day, seven days a week, she had faced a barrage of wounds, problem pregnancies and unfamiliar tropical diseases. How much longer could she go on like this?
The seizure ended. The little boy’s breathing stopped, and his pulse weakened. Kelli struggled awkwardly to reposition herself in the canoe and began rescue breathing. Not knowing what Kelli was doing, the boy’s parents became agitated. She checked his pulse again. It was gone. She added chest compressions. Now distraught, the boy’s parents begged her to stop. “He is dead! Let’s go back. Let’s go back!” Unwilling to admit failure, Kelli continued CPR for a time before slumping over her lifeless little patient exhausted, drained and defeated.
Now in the full grip of grief and despair, the boy’s parents broke into an awful wailing chant, swinging their arms up and down and banging them against the sides of the dugout canoe in an effort to exorcise their pain and express to the spirit of their son how sorry they were.
There on that jungle river, Kelli felt an overwhelming weight of suffering and death pressing down and threatening to crush her, an experience shared by many missionaries before her and likely to be shared by those who walk in her footsteps.
But let us remember that Christ has already drained the cup of suffering and death and has risen victorious. We stand on the threshold of a time when we will say, “O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?” Please help us bring this message to the Ama people.
—John Lello
Thursday, July 1, 2010
In Training: July 1, 2010
As I flushed the toilet, three small creatures sprang out toward me. I
jumped back against the wall with a shriek, eyes wide and heart
pounding. “Mommy! Mommy! Are you okay?” Abby burst into the bathroom.
Speechless, I pointed to the green tree frogs clinging to the wall. “Lissa!” Abby called, “Come see what jumped out of the toilet!”
Cautiously, Lissa entered, “Oh! can we keep them?”
This was the first of many surprises during our mission service at Davis Indian Industrial College in Paurima, Guyana.
As our family walked down a grassy path to breakfast one morning, I felt suddenly compelled to leap aside. Turning around, I scanned the ground behind me, and my heart skipped a beat. There in the grass lay a poisonous snake in the spot where I had been about to step. “Abby and Alissa, watch out!” John warned them as he proceeded to kill the snake with a stick. As we continued on our way, we all thanked God for His care and protection.
It was Friday morning in Paurima, and everything seemed to be going wrong. Bedding and clothes hung damp on the line where I had put them two days earlier. The rest of our clothes lay in a dirty pile on the floor, and I was headed out to help build a water line. What was I going to do? Though I prefer to do things myself, John suggested hiring a girl from the community to do our laundry, and I gave in. Late that afternoon when we returned from our work in the village, I discovered the clothes on the line were completely dry. What a relief! God is so good.
Whether it is a funny experience, life-threatening danger or just everyday practical needs, God is always there to help us through each day. When we are in Papua New Guinea, I know God will be there with us, too, no matter what we encounter.
Speechless, I pointed to the green tree frogs clinging to the wall. “Lissa!” Abby called, “Come see what jumped out of the toilet!”
Cautiously, Lissa entered, “Oh! can we keep them?”
This was the first of many surprises during our mission service at Davis Indian Industrial College in Paurima, Guyana.
As our family walked down a grassy path to breakfast one morning, I felt suddenly compelled to leap aside. Turning around, I scanned the ground behind me, and my heart skipped a beat. There in the grass lay a poisonous snake in the spot where I had been about to step. “Abby and Alissa, watch out!” John warned them as he proceeded to kill the snake with a stick. As we continued on our way, we all thanked God for His care and protection.
It was Friday morning in Paurima, and everything seemed to be going wrong. Bedding and clothes hung damp on the line where I had put them two days earlier. The rest of our clothes lay in a dirty pile on the floor, and I was headed out to help build a water line. What was I going to do? Though I prefer to do things myself, John suggested hiring a girl from the community to do our laundry, and I gave in. Late that afternoon when we returned from our work in the village, I discovered the clothes on the line were completely dry. What a relief! God is so good.
Whether it is a funny experience, life-threatening danger or just everyday practical needs, God is always there to help us through each day. When we are in Papua New Guinea, I know God will be there with us, too, no matter what we encounter.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
In Training: June 2010
Recently, my friend Dale Goodson told me the story of how, as an AFM
missionary, he shared Christ with a man from a village deep in the
jungles of Papua New Guinea. The man had no written language, couldn’t
count higher than two and had no concept of history other than a
knowledge of his parents, his ancestors and their traditions.
As Dale struggled to think of a way to explain the biblical account of creation, man’s fall, the history of God’s people and Christ’s incarnation, life, death, resurrection and second coming, his eyes came to rest on the rough floorboards of the man’s hut. Pointing to one of the boards, he said, “This is you, and the board next to it is your parents. The next board is your grandparents.” Continuing the floorboard analogy, he told him it would take most of the floorboards in the village to count the generations back to creation. Then he told the story of man’s fall and God’s promise of redemption. He recounted the stories of God’s people. He opened the mystery of Christ’s incarnation, life, death and resurrection and concluded by saying, “Here we are in the last board before Christ’s return.”
The man began to weep inconsolably, deep sobs shaking his whole body. Finally, as the man began to regain his composure, Dale asked him what the matter was, and he replied, “Here we are in the last generation, and my people do not know. We are the last to know. Why has no one told us before this?”
For decades, the Ama people have waited for Seventh-day Adventist missionaries to return and complete the work our first missionaries began. This is the work God has laid on our hearts. Please, won’t you help us proclaim the gospel among the Ama people in this last generation?
As Dale struggled to think of a way to explain the biblical account of creation, man’s fall, the history of God’s people and Christ’s incarnation, life, death, resurrection and second coming, his eyes came to rest on the rough floorboards of the man’s hut. Pointing to one of the boards, he said, “This is you, and the board next to it is your parents. The next board is your grandparents.” Continuing the floorboard analogy, he told him it would take most of the floorboards in the village to count the generations back to creation. Then he told the story of man’s fall and God’s promise of redemption. He recounted the stories of God’s people. He opened the mystery of Christ’s incarnation, life, death and resurrection and concluded by saying, “Here we are in the last board before Christ’s return.”
The man began to weep inconsolably, deep sobs shaking his whole body. Finally, as the man began to regain his composure, Dale asked him what the matter was, and he replied, “Here we are in the last generation, and my people do not know. We are the last to know. Why has no one told us before this?”
For decades, the Ama people have waited for Seventh-day Adventist missionaries to return and complete the work our first missionaries began. This is the work God has laid on our hearts. Please, won’t you help us proclaim the gospel among the Ama people in this last generation?
Saturday, May 1, 2010
In Training, May 2010
Our pilot, Gary Lewis, opened the throttle of the small single-engine
airplane, and we surged forward as we bumped along the grassy strip.
With a final shudder, the airplane lifted into the air, cleared the
jungle treetops at the end of the runway and began to climb, leaving the
village of Paruima, Guyana, behind us.
As the village dropped away, John and I wondered whether we would ever see this place again or fellowship with the gentle people we had come to appreciate so much during our four short weeks of service. The plane continued to climb. Soon, the dense jungle spread out beneath us like an endless green carpet interrupted only by small patches of savannah, mountain outcroppings and the Mazaruni River, a thin, dark ribbon woven through it all.
The monotonous drone of the engine quickly lulled our daughters, Abigail and Alissa, to sleep. Not long after that, I also succumbed to drowsiness. Then Gary’s voice woke me. “We’re at 8,000 feet and still haven’t reached the top of these clouds. I still don’t see any way through them. We better start to pray.” The plane was circling and climbing. “I’ve already started,” John replied, himself a pilot in his younger days.
As the plane continued to labor upward and the wall of clouds in front of us mushroomed, our earnest prayers ascended. “9,500 feet, and we’re nowhere near the top,” Gary reported. “Wait a minute, there’s a break in the clouds developing over there. We will have to try to get through.” As we slipped through that canyon in the clouds and emerged on the other side, we praised God for His deliverance.
As the challenge of raising financial support mounts up before us like those towering clouds, I recall God’s wonderful deliverance in the skies of Guyana and His promise: “Faithful is he that calleth you, who also will do it” (1 Thess. 5:24).
As the village dropped away, John and I wondered whether we would ever see this place again or fellowship with the gentle people we had come to appreciate so much during our four short weeks of service. The plane continued to climb. Soon, the dense jungle spread out beneath us like an endless green carpet interrupted only by small patches of savannah, mountain outcroppings and the Mazaruni River, a thin, dark ribbon woven through it all.
The monotonous drone of the engine quickly lulled our daughters, Abigail and Alissa, to sleep. Not long after that, I also succumbed to drowsiness. Then Gary’s voice woke me. “We’re at 8,000 feet and still haven’t reached the top of these clouds. I still don’t see any way through them. We better start to pray.” The plane was circling and climbing. “I’ve already started,” John replied, himself a pilot in his younger days.
As the plane continued to labor upward and the wall of clouds in front of us mushroomed, our earnest prayers ascended. “9,500 feet, and we’re nowhere near the top,” Gary reported. “Wait a minute, there’s a break in the clouds developing over there. We will have to try to get through.” As we slipped through that canyon in the clouds and emerged on the other side, we praised God for His deliverance.
As the challenge of raising financial support mounts up before us like those towering clouds, I recall God’s wonderful deliverance in the skies of Guyana and His promise: “Faithful is he that calleth you, who also will do it” (1 Thess. 5:24).
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